Take a Stab at It - Freewood
by savingprivatesimmons
Summary: Gavin's remarkably terrible at throwing knives, so Ryan resolves to teach him by guiding him through the process and holding him in position when needed (which happens unsurprisingly often. It is Gavin, after all).


After taking a few quick breaths and hopping from foot to foot a couple of times, Gavin decided that he was ready. He drew his arm back and flung the professionally crafted throwing knife at the target. When the handle hit the wall with a thunk and pinged off to the side of the room, Gavin groaned miserably.

"I just can't bloody do it!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and taking a frustrated (and well-earned) swig from his Red Bull. He'd been at it for _at least_ half an hour now; he'd only wanted to prove to Ryan that he _could_ in fact throw knives. So far he'd only failed, though.

Ryan tutted and frowned before walking across the room to retrieve the knife, tossing it in the air and letting it spin a couple of times before he expertly caught it. It was hardly his fault that knife wielding came as natural to him as breathing; he'd been throwing knives ever since he'd been old enough to buy one for himself. This was coincidentally about the same time that Ryan began delving into criminal activity, eventually leading him to joining the Fake AH Crew.

"Show off." Gavin spat, his tone faux-irate as he crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. It only earned him a smarmy smirk and a shrug from Ryan. "Okay, so how the hell do you do it?"

"Would you prefer it if I walked you through it instead of letting you blunt all my knives?" Ryan asked slyly, and Gavin couldn't ignore the undeniable cocky tone to his voice.

Gavin huffed in annoyance before muttering his answer under his breath. "Fine."

Perking up at Gavin's reply, Ryan walked to stand at the line of chalk. "You gonna get your ass over here or not?"

"I dunno… I'm kinda nervous about being within a meter of you when you're holding sharp objects…" Gavin furrowed his brow and gave a concerned glance to the sleek, black, double-edged throwing knife Ryan held in one hand.

"Oh just get over here," Ryan grumbled, placing a hand between Gavin's shoulder blades so he stood where Ryan wanted him. He then held out the knife by the blade for Gavin to take. "Show me how you hold it."

Gavin took the knife and held the blade between his thumb and two fingers but he looked up guiltily when he heard Ryan sigh in dismay. Wordlessly, Ryan held Gavin's wrist still with one hand and took the knife with the other, carefully avoiding the razor sharp edges. His calloused hands constantly brushed against Gavin's softer ones as he gently moved Gavin's fingers and hand to hold the knife in the correct grip. By the time he was done, Gavin had a firm grip on the handle of the knife.

"That's called a hammer grip," Ryan informed, stepping back to watch Gavin carefully observe his own hand as if to commit the image to memory. "It's better for beginners, like yourself." He said with a smug smile, prompting a scowl from Gavin. "Anyway, give it a couple of practice throws without actually letting go so I can see where you're going wrong."

With his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration, Gavin drew back his arm and swung it forwards a couple of times. Once again, Ryan winced when he saw how weak the throw would be if Gavin were to actually throw the knife like that. The poor aim and curvature of his trajectory easily explained why he'd been getting it so wrong; the knife would tumble through the air clumsily before colliding with the wall and ricocheting.

"Is that not right?" Gavin asked, nervously looking up at Ryan who shook his head.

"You're flailing your arm around too much and you aren't aiming properly before you go for it, not to mention your stance is completely incorrect." Ryan informed, ignoring the hurt pout received, opting for standing behind Gavin and settling his hands on the younger man's shoulders, turning him marginally to the right so the arm without the knife was closer to the target. Then he put one foot behind Gavin before giving him more instructions.

"You're right-handed, so move your right foot back until it touches mine." Gavin focussed his gaze downwards as he shuffled his foot backwards until it touched Ryan's, but that also resulted in their bodies having less than a few centimetres between them.

Their closeness brought a rose-tinted blush to Ryan's face, but he ignored that too. He was a _professional,_ goddammit, he will _not_ be affected by this.

He brought a hand up to wrap around Gavin's again, loosening his fingers ever so minutely by gently prying his fingers back minutely. "Your grip has to be firm but delicate; if it's too firm then it'll impede your throw, if it's too delicate then you might release it prematurely." Gavin wordlessly allowed Ryan to adjust his grip, his fingers complying and molding perfectly to the positions Ryan carefully pushed them into.

Gavin has very slender fingers, Ryan noticed, and he mused about how it would feel to get to hold his hand before he realised what he was doing. He mentally shook his head to bring himself back to the present and moving onto the next part of Gavin's stance that needed changing. Now was neither the place nor time for affectionate and tender thoughts about the British crew member he was supposed to be giving a knife-throwing lesson to.

"Don't slouch," Ryan said sternly, but he rolled his eyes when Gavin straightened his back to the point where it was ridiculous. It was either one extreme or the other with this idiot. He huffed once with annoyance before deftly moving one hand around the body in front of him to press his open-palmed hand onto the centre of Gavin's chest, his other hand resting between Gavin's shoulder blades.

Instead of going pink, his cheeks flushed a bright red when he felt Gavin's breath hitch. It was barely noticeable, but with the points of contact Ryan had, it was clear that Gavin was now hyperaware of their closeness too.

"Hey idiot," Ryan murmured, hardly needing to raise his voice above a whisper thanks to their proximity, "don't forget to breathe."

"Oh, oops." Gavin muttered in an almost ashamedly nervous response. "Sorry."

"Hey, _I'm_ not the one who would've passed out from lack of oxygen." Ryan retorted, somehow managing to bring back some humour to the conversation. It stifled a soft chuckle from Gavin who forced himself to go silent once more, concentrating on his breathing. Ryan could feel the noticeably steadier rise and fall of Gavin's chest under his hand.

"The trick is to not breathe too deeply," Ryan continued, his hand from Gavin's chest moving to lightly grip his wrist, bringing his arm back. "Breathe steadily; don't concentrate too much on it, you wanna save that for actually throwing the knife."

"O-okay," Gavin spluttered, hesitating for a moment before he did as Ryan said and forced himself to inhale and exhale in a steadier fashion than earlier. Ryan's hand was still on Gavin's back and wrist, but he didn't move them. He told himself that it was to ensure Gavin did everything correctly, it _wasn't_ because he actually _liked_ the intimate position the two were currently stood in.

And he _certainly_ wasn't _disappointed_ of all things when Gavin calmly stated "I think I'm ready."

"Okay, throw it when you're ready," Ryan replied after he'd taken a few steps away from Gavin, but not before letting his fingers linger ever so slightly on the bare skin at Gavin's wrist and on the thin fabric of pale blue button-down shirt covering his back. Only then did Ryan realise how much of Gavin's warmth he'd been absorbing because now he was actually feeling the slight chill of the practice room they were stood in.

He forced himself to focus his attention on the way Gavin took one steady, relaxed breath before leaning backwards just a hair and whipping the knife forwards. Ryan watched with bated breath as the knife flew out of Gavin's hand before it became a blur. The dull thud of the blade embedding itself in the target was all Ryan needed to hear before Gavin was throwing his hands in the air and whooping with joy.

"I did it!" He exclaimed, jumping up and down in victory a couple of times in a childish way that only Gavin could make look entertaining.

"Fuck yeah you did, well done!" Ryan cheered, matching Gavin's smile with one of his own. The euphoric grin Gavin wore had his whole face lighting up in happiness; the Brit's smile was always contagious, but this one in particular was special. Something akin to pride was bubbling pleasantly inside of Ryan - especially since _he_ was kind of the cause behind that glorious, beautiful smile.

However, he wasn't prepared for Gavin to turn to him, smile still in place as he flung his arms around Ryan's neck to hug him tightly. Before Ryan knew it, Gavin was also jumping up to hook his legs around Ryan's waist, forcing him to - albeit awkwardly whilst fighting back a crimson blush - grab onto Gavin's jean-clad ass to ensure he didn't fall.

"Thank you, Rye-bread," Gavin said in a sing-song voice as he simpered at Ryan. "I couldn't've done it without you."

"Yeah, I know." Ryan speculated in a voice akin to a scoff. He thought he was the only one who knew that his drawl and faux-disinterest was there to cover up the fact that his heart was now beating twice as fast thanks to the Brit wrapped around him. Not to mention the current positioning of Ryan's hands.

"Oh shut up, dummy, you're ruining the moment." Gavin scolded, playfully booping Ryan on the nose with his finger.

"We're having a moment?" Ryan asked, mustering up as much disbelief and confusion as he possibly could. Honestly, he had been kind of hoping that this was a moment. God, he sounded like he was sixteen again and crushing on his Biology partner. Only this time he was in his thirties and crushing on one of his partners in crime.

"Not any more, we're not!" Gavin exclaimed jokingly with a laugh, and he probably would have thrown his hands in the air again if he wasn't still clinging onto Ryan to stay in the air.

Ryan sighed, completely baffled by how immature a grown man could be. A fond smile lingered on his lips as he lowered Gavin back down to the floor. But instead of completely removing his hands from Gavin, he slid them to the Brit's slim waist to maintain their closeness. Try as he might, Ryan couldn't ignore the heavy pounding of his heart in his chest caused by the warmth radiating from Gavin's slender body which was flush against Ryan.

"My hero," Gavin declared wistfully, eyes locked with Ryan's for the briefest of moments before he closed them. Then he leaned in to brush his lips feather-light against Ryan's in a soft kiss. He lingered there for barely a second before pulling back. "My knife-wielding, murder-happy, hero."

Ryan chuckled breathlessly before he decided that he was glad Gavin didn't give him a chance to reply; there was no chance in hell that he would've been coherent. He also found that he was ultimately grateful that he chose to teach Gavin how to throw knives - after all, it had led to a rather interesting outcome.

Instead of letting Ryan continue losing himself in Gavin's eyes or in his own thoughts, Gavin leaned in to capture Ryan's lips once again, this time in a firmer kiss.


End file.
